Dead Highways: Origins (7 page)

We made it to Naima’s house a little behind schedule, even though the back roads weren’t nearly as clogged as the highway. I was able to weave through the maze of sleeping drivers without putting a scratch on grandma’s Buick.

I pulled into the driveway. Naima’s house was small and old, but at least it wasn’t on fire like some of the homes we’d already passed. Rain might not be such a bad thing after all. The lawn was well manicured compared to the rest of the houses on the block, and the carport wasn’t being used to hold piles and piles of useless junk. There was actually a car in there. A red minivan.
Not
Aamod’s Toyota.

“That’s my mom’s car,” Naima said as I put the Buick in park.

Before I could respond, she jumped out and jogged up to the front door.

A moment later, she disappeared inside the house.

“Should we get out?” Peaches asked. “Go in?”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea. Her father is not here. But her mother might be, and if she is . . .”

I met eyes with Peaches in the rearview mirror.

“Gotcha,” she replied.

The next time I looked in the rearview, I saw someone else. They were standing behind the car at the foot of the driveway. Standing there and staring at us. I turned around and looked back just to make sure I wasn’t going crazy.

Nope.

Not crazy. Not yet.

Peaches turned to look as well. “Who is
that
?”

I slid my hand down the side of the seat and felt around for Sally. “Don’t know. Should we say something?”

He beat us to it.

“Hello,” was all he said.

I shut off the engine. “Let’s go.”

As I got out of the car and approached the stranger, I instantly felt better about leaving the gun in the car. This guy looked about as threatening as a hand puppet. He was short and chunky, and wore a faded jean jacket that could have been in style in the 90s. I couldn’t remember. He was probably in his mid-thirties, so it made sense. He also wore thick-framed glasses and had a forehead the size of a football field.

“Hello,” he said again, softly, shyly.

“Hi,” I said. “What’s your name?”

“Name’s Jerry.”

We shook hands. His were cold and dry.

“Jimmy. Nice to meet you. This is Peaches.”

“Hi,” Peaches said. She shook his hand and then faded back behind me.

“What are you folks doing here? You know Naima?”

“Sort of. Came to drop her off. You live around here?”

“Yeah, across the street.” He turned and pointed to a tan house behind him.

Jerry’s house also had a car in the carport, but the lawn wasn’t nearly as well kept.

“Shame what happened, eh? The virus and all.”

“Sure is.”

Naima came out the front door, interrupting our stimulating conversation. She walked down the driveway toward us.

“Well,” I said.

She stopped next to Peaches. “They’re not here.”

“Hello, Naima,” Jerry said.

“Hey, Jerry. Good to see you’re okay.”

Jerry smiled. “You too.”

“How are your parents?”

“They’re . . . not okay.” He had an embarrassed look on his face. “See, I live with my parents.”

I shrugged. “I live with my grandma.”

“Where you headed now?” Jerry asked.

“I don’t know.”

“You’re not gonna just leave me here are you?” Naima said. “I know that was the deal, but . . .”

“Don’t worry. We’ll help you find your parents.”

“Hey, you know I spoke to your dad earlier,” Jerry said.

“Really?” Naima said. “What did he say?”

“Um, well . . . I saw him carry your mom to the car. She looked . . . well, you know. He said he was going to the hospital.”

Naima’s face sunk into a frown. “So . . . my mom . . .”

“Yeah, he told me to tell you if I saw you.”

Her eyes began to fill with tears, but still she looked to be handling the news better than I did. She bowed her head. Peaches put a hand on her shoulder.

We stood in silence for many moments, not sure what to say, when Naima finally raised her head. “That doesn’t make sense. I wasn’t supposed to come home. Why would you see me?”

Jerry was clearly ruffled by the question. He took a few seconds to respond. “Hell, I don’t know, Naima. Maybe in case your friends here dropped you off.”

“But he doesn’t even know them.”

Jerry sighed. “I’m sorry. Perhaps I’m mistaken. Happens sometimes.”

“But you’re sure he was going to the hospital?” I asked.

“I’m sure that’s what he said. Yes.”

I looked back at Naima. “Then I guess we go to the hospital.”

“It’s not far,” Jerry said. “Just down the road, off US-1.”

I nodded. “I know where it is. Thanks for your help.”

“Sure, yeah, anytime,” Jerry replied.

The three of us got back into the car. I waited for Jerry to hustle back across the street before turning the engine back on.

“Weird guy,” Peaches said, watching him go from the back window.

“You have no idea,” Naima said.

Jerry stood in the corner of his carport and watched us drive away.

“What’s wrong with him?” I asked. “He was . . . nice.”

“I don’t know,” Naima replied. “He always seems—”

“Heavily medicated,” I interjected.

Naima smirked. “That’s probably it.”

“How long has he been living with his parents?” Peaches asked.

“Maybe two or three years now. I don’t know them all that well. I know his mom is in a wheelchair. They’re quite a bit older than my parents, and they usually stay inside. But Jerry, he’s always wandering around like a stray dog. I can’t go outside without running into him.”

“Maybe he likes you,” I said jokingly.

“There’s no
maybe
about it. He does. He’s asked me out numerous times.”

“Ugh, he’s old enough to be your dad,” Peaches said.

“I know. And he’s lucky I’ve never told
my
dad. He’d probably kill him.”

“I could see that,” I said.

The hospital was no more than five miles from Naima’s house, but still it would take over ten minutes to get there, even as I rolled through every stop sign. The hardest part was crossing US-1. I had to go a mile or so out of the way before I found a spot to cross.

“I see some more people,” Peaches said. “That’s a good sign, right?”

“The couple hiking on the train tracks? I saw them too. There’s also a few other drivers on the road actually driving, which ain’t a bad sign either. One was behind us.”

Peaches turned and looked out the back window. “Where?”

“I said
was
behind us.” I checked the rearview once more. “They must have turned off somewhere. But they were on our tail for a while.”

“What do you think we’re gonna find at the hospital?” Peaches asked.

I looked over at Naima. She had her head turned away from me, looking out the passenger window. She still hadn’t broken down yet—she’d been as quiet as a statue the entire car ride.

“Hopefully Naima’s parents,” I finally replied.

I hadn’t been to the hospital in many years—knock on wood. Not since seventh grade when a soccer ball collided with my nose during P.E. I guess I should have been paying attention. One of the teacher’s aides had to take me to the hospital. I remember being scared I might die. Bleed to death. That’s how much the fucking thing bled. Irrational fear, I know, but I was like twelve at the time. I knew it was broken. It had to be. I heard the
crunch
. But the X-rays said it wasn’t, and my nose healed up good and straight. Coincidentally, that was the same year the Doberman chased me home from the bus stop. When I pissed my pants. Yeah, it was
that
kind of year.

And that was the last time I’d been to the hospital. You don’t get injured a lot staying indoors reading. Just paper cuts and the occasional butt cramp.

All four entrances to the hospital were plugged up with cars. We ended up leaving the Buick in the parking lot of a Cancer Care Center not far from the hospital, and then walked over. I had hoped that maybe the hospital would be teeming with more life than what we’d seen so far. Maybe all the remaining people like us, the survivors, the immune, those not in a coma, had converged on the hospital like athletes to a free steroids seminar.

But it wasn’t to be.

Coming up to the front entrance, I could already see the hospital would offer no comfort, only more of the same.

More people. More slowly dying people.

More sadness.

The doors didn’t open for us automatically as they normally would, but it wasn’t due to lack of power. They must have been manually switched off. Luckily, they weren’t locked.

We stopped just inside the building and looked around. A television mounted up on the wall in the waiting room was broadcasting white snow.

“They have power,” Peaches said.

I nodded. “Probably a backup generator.”

“How long will that last?”

“Don’t know. Not forever.”

It was naptime at the neighborhood hospital. Every chair in the waiting room had a body in it; some slumped forward, others slumped backward. Old. Young. Black. White. Every color of the rainbow. They had all come for help and were still waiting. At their feet were more bodies, many of them children.

We walked up to the front desk. Aside from the white noise emitted by the television, the hospital was soundless. Not a ding of the elevators. Not a ring of the phone. Not a Dr. Doug Ross to the emergency room. Nothing. I’d never seen a place look so busy, yet feel so empty. It was haunting. I kept looking around, thinking someone was watching us. Every breath we took. Every move we made. The receptionist behind the front desk, however, wasn’t watching anything but the tile floor. She was face down. Looked like she’d slipped off her chair in a desperate fight to stay awake.

“Well, should we split up?”

Peaches shrugged.

Naima was eyeing every person, looking for her parents. I don’t think she’d heard a word I’d said since we entered the building.

“It’s a big hospital,” I continued. “What is there . . . six floors? I’m not so good at math, but I think that’s two a piece.”

Naima focused back on us for a moment and said, “That’s fine.”

I guess she
had
been listening.

“Why don’t you cover the first two, Naima? Peaches . . . you get three and four, and I’ll take the top two.”

“You sure?” Peaches asked.

“Unless you want to climb two extra flights of stairs.”

“But . . . there’s a generator. The elevators won’t work?”

“They might, but I ain’t taking the chance getting stuck in one. My luck ain’t that good.”

Peaches smirked. “Look around. Your luck ain’t that bad.”

“Hmm. Good point,” I replied. “How ‘bout we meet back here in, say, thirty minutes? That should be plenty of time. Sound good?”

“I don’t have a watch,” Peaches said.

“Neither do I,” Naima said.

“Then make an educated guess. This isn’t a science project. Just sweep the floor the best you can and head back. If no one else is here when you get back, then wait. Okay?”

They both nodded, and then we headed off. Peaches and I went toward the elevators, thinking the stairs were probably close by. Naima went the other direction.

“I didn’t want to say anything in front of her,” Peaches said. “But I really don’t think we’re gonna find them. I mean . . . look at this place.”

“I agree. And if we do find them, I bet they’ll blend right in with the others.”

“I feel so bad for her. And for you, too, Jimmy.”

To this, I said nothing.

The door to the stairwell was just past the elevators, where I had imagined it being. Sometimes I amazed myself.

We headed up the stairs, passing more bodies along the way, many of them dressed in various colors of medical scrubs. Given the number of bruised and bleeding heads, the stairs did not appear to be a safe place to fall asleep.

I left Peaches at the entrance to the third floor and then continued up. I was already getting tired. You always think you’re in good physical shape, and then a bunch of stairs kick your lazy ass.

From what I could tell, the fifth floor was for post-operative patients. I walked the halls briskly, checking every unlocked room, even one with a mop and bucket. All the while, I called out, saying
hello
, asking if anyone was there. Nobody called back. Nobody said . . .
yes, I’m here.
I was both disappointed and relieved at the same time. Disappointed because it would have given me great pleasure to be able to find Naima’s parents—to put a big smile on her face. And yet I was relieved, because odds are if I found someone they wouldn’t be her parents, they’d be someone totally crazy. Just like the rest of us. And they’d probably want my help.

I was wrong. But only about the crazy part.

The sixth and final floor was the maternity ward. I couldn’t get past the waiting room without a magnetic keycard, so I swiped one from one of the nurses just lying around.

I was instantly glad I had said I’d take the top two floors, new mothers and their newborn babies was not a sight either of the girls needed to see. Not like this. It was awful.

There was no other way to describe it.

Just awful.

Then I came upon the nursery, and things got even worse.

I looked through the glass window just like countless people had before me, viewing the newborns in their makeshift bassinets. Thankfully, the nursery wasn’t even close to full capacity. Many of the pregnant mothers never got that far, falling ill with the infection before they could finish giving birth. For the three babies that were in the nursery, this was where they were supposed to wait until mommy was ready to take them home. Only, they’d never go home. Their short life was over before it had a chance to begin.

Except for one.

It was a baby girl wrapped tight in a pink blanket, squirming in her pen, eyes open, but not crying. I wondered how long she’d been in there—how long she
had
cried before figuring out no one was coming to help her.

No one but me.

The trip back down the stairs was less of a toll on my legs, even though I was carrying an extra seven or eight pounds. I hadn’t even finished searching the sixth floor for Naima’s parents. They weren’t up there, not on the maternity ward. I was sure of it. Plus, I had bigger—or
smaller
—things to worry about at the moment. This quiet, beautiful baby girl probably wouldn’t make it much longer if she didn’t get something in her belly. She looked weak and tired, and was powerless to do anything about it.

Peaches was already in the waiting room when I got back.

“Oh no, you’re kidding,” she said softly, seeing me with a baby cradled in my arms. “Is she . . . ?”

“No, she’s alive, but she needs formula.”

“Can I hold her?”

“Sure,” I said, handing her off. “She’s not mine.”

Peaches rocked the baby against her chest, her large breasts making for a soft cushion.

“I’m guessing you didn’t find anyone. Where is Naima? She should have been the first to get back?”

“I don’t know, Jimmy.”

I checked my watch. “Still got a few minutes.”

“You didn’t find any formula?”

“I didn’t look,” I said.

“You didn’t? Why not?”

“Cause I’m an idiot.”

Peaches smiled. “There’s got to be some.”

“Probably is. I panicked.” I looked at my watch again. “Let’s wait five more minutes for Naima, and if she doesn’t show, we’ll head back up there.”

Five minutes came and went, and there was still no sign of Naima.

“Where could she be?” I asked.

“Anywhere, really.”

“You think she could have found her parents?”

“Could have. But would she just leave without us?”

“If she really found her dad, and he was okay, she’d do whatever he told her to, I’m sure. You met him. You got a small taste of what he’s like.”

Peaches nodded, never looking up from the baby in her arms.

“Now amplify that times a thousand.”

“So she ditched us then?”

I shrugged. “Probably. Let’s just go find some formula. Maybe we can swing by her place on the way back to the bookstore.”

The second time going up the stairs actually seemed easier than the first. It must have been the wave of adrenaline pulsing through my body. Once on the sixth floor, Peaches found the formula so fast I thought she had GPS guiding her. She also grabbed some diapers. We agreed to leave the hospital before feeding the baby girl. We both needed a strong dose of fresh air and a little less creepiness.

Back at the Buick, Peaches prepared the formula and began feeding the baby. No longer consigned to the back seat, she now sat beside me. I took out Sally’s magazine and put her in the glove box. She didn’t complain. She was used to doing whatever I told her.

“I wonder what her name is,” Peaches said. “The hospital bracelet doesn’t say. It only has numbers on it.”

“Maybe you should give her a name.”

“I guess. It just doesn’t feel right, naming someone else’s baby, ya know.”

“It’s the least we could do. Right now, we’re all she has.”

“Then we’ll call her Olivia,” Peaches said. “What do you think?”

“I think Olivia has a good appetite.”

Peaches smiled, while baby Olivia ate like she’d never eaten before.